Good Advice
by Smackalicious
Summary: Sometimes the best advice is the kind that breaks your heart. McGiva UST. Tag to A Desperate Man. ONESHOT.


Title: Good Advice  
>Pairing: McGeeZiva UST  
>Rating: FR7<br>Genre: Gen, bordering on Het  
>Cat: Angst, Episode Tag, Friendship, UST<br>Spoilers: Tag for 9x19 - A Desperate Man  
>Warnings: None.<br>Summary: Sometimes the best advice is the kind that breaks your heart.  
>Author's Note: This is my way of resolving Ziva not asking McGee about the engagement. It's kind of depressing, but I have a couple other ideas that are happier, so I'll probably write those at some point, too.<p>

* * *

><p>Ziva walked into the break room and jumped, swearing to herself. "McGee. You scared me. I did not know you were still here."<p>

"Well, I am," he said, and there was something in the way he said it that made Ziva look at him a bit closer.

"McGee?"

"I thought we were friends, Ziva."

His words felt like someone had tossed a bowling ball at her stomach. She blinked a few times, then made her way to the table, dropping into a seat as she looked over at him, concern on her face. "Of course we are. Why would you ever think otherwise?"

He shrugged, pushing the napkin holder in the center of the table back and forth with his index finger. "You never asked me what I thought about Ray proposing."

Ziva's shoulders sagged and her concerned expression deepened. "Tim. . . I could not. . ."

"I mean, okay," he interrupted, hurt and anger lacing his voice, "I'm not as 'experienced' in the relationship area as you or Tony, but that doesn't mean I don't know what's right."

Ziva's expression changed to annoyance. "What is _right_? You do not know anything about my relationship with Ray." She stood, McGee's voice following her as she did so.

"You deserve better, Ziva." She turned away, intending to leave the room. "You deserve to be loved, to have someone you can come home to and he'll be there, every night, and you can talk about your day and he'll listen." Ziva had paused and stood listening to his speech, wondering what he would say next. "You'll eat dinner together, and drink wine, and spend the night curled up together on the couch, just listening to each other's heartbeats."

Ziva felt the building of tears in her eyes and blinked them away, not wanting to let his words affect her how they were. It was like he'd hacked into her brain and read all her innermost thoughts. She smiled a little as she wondered if he could actually do that, considering his prowess for getting into other seemingly impossible places.

"I know that all sounds corny, like something out of a romance novel," McGee was saying, and Ziva shook herself free of her thoughts and listened to him again, "but it's something you could have, with the right person." He paused and Ziva held her breath, suddenly finding herself wanting him to say things she wasn't sure she even understood.

The silence loomed and Ziva finally found her voice, asking, "You do not happen to know anyone who fits that shoe, do you?"

She could hear the smile in his voice as he corrected her. "Fits the bill, Ziva. And . . . I don't know. When you meet him, you'll know."

"Will I," Ziva muttered, more to herself than to McGee. She drew in a deep breath and exhaled, then turned to face him again. "Thank you. And . . . I am sorry. I should have talked to you. I was not thinking and I am sorry."

He nodded, smiling. "Apology accepted. I just don't want to see you get hurt, Ziva. I know you can take care of yourself, but. . ."

"I appreciate it," Ziva said, giving him a soft look. "And I promise, whatever I decide, I will be sure to include you from now on." She walked over to him then, bending to brush a kiss over his cheek, then whisper in his ear. "Perhaps you are just trying to keep me for yourself, yes?"

"Good night, Ziva," McGee said after a beat, and Ziva straightened, patting him on the shoulder before she turned and exited the break room.

She returned to her desk and paused, considering the conversation they'd just had. He was right. But then, there was that other thing. . .

She shook her head and packed up her things, slinging her backpack over her shoulder before heading to the elevator. She had to go speak with Ray.

As she stepped into the elevator and waited for the doors to close, Ziva caught sight of McGee on his way back to his desk. He glanced over and caught her gaze, and as the doors closed, Ziva once again found herself holding her breath.

**THE END**


End file.
